


Two Weeks

by benevolens



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock (TV) RPF, Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (2009) RPF
Genre: During and post-his last vow, F/M, I dont know where i was going, Mentions of Death, a whole lot of angst that sprouts from no where in particular, send help, you never mean for the angst it just happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-08
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-18 23:43:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5947771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benevolens/pseuds/benevolens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Molly's eyes, Sherlock's been having a rough few months, but it doesn't explain the cryptic messages and the dress at her door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Weeks

**Author's Note:**

> I had an idea roaming around my mind since we saw that very 'interesting' special episode and a inspired by a line from some fanfic I was reading. I've been typing this up in my mobile's note section for ages, so I hope my grammar isn't shite.
> 
> Thank you for reading and please, please let me know what you think. Suggestions for additions are welcome.

Somewhere between him using again, finding out she'd cut off her engagement and getting a girlfriend, Sherlock had finally summoned her for dinner...supposedly. Specifically, a formal dinner, that "required something better than mediocre jumpers and unflattering trousers" which is why she was now staring at a dress that had just been delivered to her door. This made absolutely no sense.

  
Why was he asking her to come for dinner?

  
Why was he sending her dresses?

  
Why wasn't he asking his girlfriend and sending this dress to her? It would suit her body much better with all of those curves than it would Molly.

  
She was convinced that he read minds, even at long distances because in the middle of her pondering, Molly's mobile went off.

  
[The Detective]  
Don't ask questions. -SH

[The Detective]  
It is, in fact, for you. Wear it. -SH

[The Detective]  
Stop thinking. -SH

[The Detective]  
Arrive at 7 p.m. -SH

[The Detective]  
If convenient. -SH

Those were followed by a text with the address to a restaurant she had never heard of. The only logical conclusion was that he needed her for a case and his girlfriend (who was not in possession of a doctorate) would not suffice.  
She had nothing better to do.

  
Clearly.

  
Begrudgingly, Molly slipped on the dress. It had her staring at herself for several minutes in the full length mirror, turning to look at every angle she could. How he would that it would sit just so in...in all the right places...It sent a shiver down her spine. Quickly moving on after that, Molly made sure to wear a pair of flats. At least they were shoes she could run in if need be. God, he really would make her run around and chase idiots in a dress. The things she did for this man. She had clearly lost any shred of sense she had left.

  
Once dressed, slightly made up and her hair down in soft waves, Molly made her way to the address. Upon arrival, she glanced through the outside window, noting the full restaurant and seeing no Sherlock-- Oh, wait. There he was, sat in the back with his body half turned away from the window.

  
Here went nothing.

  
Molly stepped in, foregoing the help of the usher and finding her own way back. She sat down across from him, eying his suit, his profile, the way his hair had fallen-- Focus, Molly! Don't be an idiot.

  
"Uhm, hi? So, what's the case about?"

  
"Molly..." He said in that warning tone of his, still looking down at his mobile.

  
"What? I-I didn't say anything stupid. I've got no clue what the case--"

  
"There isn't a case." He interjected quickly, setting his phone down finally.

  
"What--Oh. Then?" She suddenly felt extremely self conscious with the way he was eying her or maybe the dress.

  
"I've been thinking."

  
"Yes, you tend to do that a lot."

  
"Molly..." He warned, sounding completely annoyed with her.

  
The frustration seemed to just roll off him in waves, his glances giving her an odd feeling in her stomach. She sighed, leaning on the table and settling her cheek in her palm, racking her mind for what could have him behaving like this.

  
"What can possibly be annoying so much that you had to buy me a dress, which you should return by the way, and call me for dinner...or rather text..."

  
Sherlock sighed audibly, something clearly weighing on him. "I can't be your boyfriend." He muttered, lowering his head and looking down to the phone in his lap.

  
Molly's brows furrowed and her mouth made a tight line as she attempted to read his eyes, but he was hiding behind his curls.  
The gall of this man to even...  
"And I can't be your girlfriend, obviously." She replied in confusion.

  
"Molly."

  
"Did you--I swear if you called me out here and made me wear a dress just so you could tell me something I already know, especially after I just got...un-engaged...I will actually kill you this time. "

  
"I mean to say, I can't be in a relationship with you." He rephrased, looking up only getting an annoyed look from Molly.

  
"What the hell are you on about? I am aware you can't seeing as you are already in a relationship even if for some insane reason you wanted to."

  
Molly didn't know what still had her sitting there when she should have left. It was his eyes. Always his damn eyes that said what he couldn't.

  
"What's wrong?" She said in a softer tone, wrapping the cardigan tight around herself with him looking at her oddly still.

  
"She isn't really. That's for a case. This...." He left the sentence hanging. Molly didnt think she had ever heard him not finish a sentence in the past decade.

  
"This is what then? Are you lonely? You could have just asked if I would come over and we could have just...I don't know. I could have brought you a liver or something. And don't get me started on the fact you are playing with a poor girl's heart and you'll make her feel horrible when you're done--"  
Molly let out a sigh, still trying to decipher the mystery look on Sherlock's face.

  
"We are...friends.... You can tell me things that are wrong. Just like you did before. Seriously, I don't--"

  
"I ordered for you already."

  
He cut her off as a waiter arrived and set a dish down in front of each of them and then another stepped in to fill their glasses with a gorgeous, expensive looking red wine. She looked from the table to him, confused beyond belief with her heart aching oddly, not knowing what to feel.

  
"Is this a date?" Molly asked, leaning in and whispering once the waiters had gone.

  
"Eat." Sherlock instructed before busying his own mouth.

  
"No, no. You're nervous. You're actually eating. You bought me a dress you knew would fit perfectly and the way you look at me...You should know by now that your eyes just...You clearly wanted this to be a date."

  
His face twitched as he chewed and looked up from his plate. "Perhaps rather than poorly attempting to dissect my 'feelings',” He began, waving his fork absently towards her shape. “…you should be eating your food. And this is just a dinner. You own no clothing that doesnt make you look like a five year old dressing in her grandmother's hand me downs. The dress should have been self explanatory."

  
Molly quieted completely, looking shocked. Less so by his words which were particularly crafted to cut and sting afterward and more by wha the was implying, but she was well aware of how his attempts at self preservation worked.

  
"You don't have to be mean just because I'm right....Aren't I?" She murmured, digging into her dinner, cursing him in her head for picking something she really liked.

  
After ignoring her remark, the remainder of the "dinner" was filled with the scraping of forks and knives against plates and a looming, awkward silence. Not to mention, the way he kept looking at her when he thought she wasnt looking. When Molly was done eating, she sat back, drained her glass and stared at Sherlock intently. "So, uhm, I should probably get back now..." She prompted, opening her bag to pull out her half of the bill.

  
"Don't...It's already taken care of and I'll take you back." He said, reaching across quickly to place his hand over hers and pulling back just as fast.

  
Molly's jaw was set as she stared at her hands, quiet for a moment. "I can take myself back. Thanks for...dinner or whatever this was. I'll send you the dress back," She explained, standing and tucking her chair in. "You should seriously return it."

  
Sherlock stood abruptly, napkin falling from his lap in a very not Sherlock way. "I want you to keep it." He pressed, quickly righting himself and shoving his chair into its space. "Let me help you home." Sherlock looked at her intently.

"Please." He added when she gave no reaction, throwing his coat over his arm.

  
"All right....Don't make a scene."

Molly glanced around self consciously, slipping on her coat and walking past him towards the door. He followed quiet as ever and several steps behind her. She could almost feel how hard he was thinking about things.

  
“Do you ever imagine that your head would spontaneously combust if you think as hard as you are now?” Molly asked, stopping mid stride and pivoting to face him. Sherlock came to an abrupt stop for the second time in the last five minutes, staring at her with wide eyes before they narrowed considerably.

  
“Do you always feel the need to say the most ridiculous things? Spontaneous combustion is far from proven and I’ve yet to--”

  
Molly thought of only two responses, either she could play with him a bit more…he did deserve it or she could thoroughly tell him off for…everything…which he also deserved.

  
“Doesn’t mean it can’t happen just because you haven’t seen it and besides, if you spontaneously combust now, I’ll certainly have witnessed it and you sadly will still have never seen it.”

  
Molly revelled slightly in the twitching of his Cupid’s bow lips. He seemed frozen for a moment before pushing past her.

“Keep up.” He muttered, swinging his coat around his shoulders and swiftly sliding his arms into the sleeves.

  
With a soft sigh and a bit of a smile, Molly followed at her own pace trying to figure him out. She felt the tiniest smidgen guilty for trying to joke and push his buttons when perhaps—  
She could hardly think of the words. They sent shivers down her spine in a much different way than earlier and her heart ached at even a hint of the thought.

  
What if he was really trying to tell her he really felt something for her?

Truly…

  
The change in his behaviour had been evident since he had come back, though the girlfriend and the relapse had shocked and hurt her. Well, the latter had hurt her.

  
Oh stuff it.

  
She was jealous and part of her, the part she had kept pushing down tonight, was happy with the way his eyes had lingered far too long, that he had specifically chosen a dress that made him want to look at her in the way she had craved for him to and that he was having the hardest time coming to terms with the fact that he had feeling for her.  
Those thoughts made Molly cringe slightly, those were horrible, horrible things to feel. How could she be happy with him looking the way he was? Sherlock Holmes was most definitely struggling and he was trying really hard.

  
It was her turn to apologise. That was new....

  
“Sherlock! Wait for me!” She called out, rushing after him. “Sherlock?" Molly murmured, tugging on his sleeve in hopes that he would slow. “I’m sorry. I’m being insensitive.”

  
“That’s a first.”

  
In another surprising turn of events, Sherlock hadn’t shrugged from her hold. “Really…I know you are trying and I—“

  
“Not here.” Her heart sunk when he finally tugged his arm from her.

  
“Sorry…” She whispered, shoving her hands into her pockets and tucking her head down as she tried to follow him dutifully. The walk was quiet, long and when she breathlessly lifted her head to ask him where on Earth they were heading, Molly noted the lighting in front of her building and let out a heavy sigh. On second thought, she had chosen her shoes poorly, thinking the walk had probably worn holes in the soles of her flats. Shifting her gaze, Molly looked to Sherlock who was staring up at the building, almost listlessly.

  
“Inside?” She promptly, looking between him and the door, raising a brow in question.

  
“Briefly.” He responded, moving to open the door to the lobby, actually holding it for her. Molly muttered a gentle ‘thank you’, brushing past him towards the lift. It was her turn to hold the door for him and suddenly, there was a sense of nervousness being stuck in a confined space with him, knowing full well that the pair of them—  
“You didn’t have to be mean.” He parroted her earlier comment, Molly noted, staring down at his shoes.

  
“It wasn’t on purpose,” She lied, bottom lip becoming pronounced as Sherlock held up a hand, causing her cheeks filled with warmth. In that moment, the confident Molly that had emerged around him in the past few months had crumbled slightly.

  
“I didn’t think you would ever do that to me. Not you.” He continued, letting out one of the heaviest sighs. “Not when I was trying to—“

  
“I was teasing you!” She interjected, voice full of emotions she couldn’t quite place. “It was that or get incredibly upset and blow up at you for waiting so damn long.” Molly sighed defeatedly, fists curling up in her pockets as he shifted to look at her.

  
Studying his eyes, Molly couldn't exactly comprehend the look that had taken over. It wasn’t one she had seen before or so she thought. Her thoughts slowly became more muddled and confused.  
Why didn’t he know she was joking with him? Didn’t they do that now?

  
“Molly….”

  
“Stop saying my name like that.” Her voice had taken on a timid tone as Molly looked up at him.

  
“Like what?”

  
“Like--Like... Like I’m the one being silly. Maybe I was silly for putting on the dress and coming the second you asked me too, but—“

  
“That isn’t what I’m implying. We’re both rather silly aren’t we?” The tiniest hint of a smile tugged at his increasingly gorgeous lips, leaving Molly more confused, if that was possible.

  
“Sherlock?!"

  
“Molly…”

  
The lift pinged, signalling their stop. Molly huffed a frustrated breath through her nose and stepped out, quickly going to her door and unlocking it for them. Once he had stepped in, Molly shut and locked it, quickly turning to stumble straight into his chest.

_Face first_.

  
Groaning, she pulled back and glared at Sherlock. “Can we please stop playing this game and can you articulate, properly, in words that make sense, what the hell is going?” She poked at his chest with a finger, trying to get him to back off.

  
“Do I _need_ to articulate, properly, in words that make sense, what the purpose of all this was?"

  
“If it was to show me you can’t actually be a boyfriend, you failed. If it was to show me that you can’t be with me, you failed. If it was to show that you didn’t have feelings for me, you failed. Colossally. If it was to infuriate me and thoroughly confuse me, you’ve succeeded. Well done!" Molly growled.

  
Sherlock, on the other hand, looked highly amused.

  
“Don’t—I’m done playing. You can see yourself out.” Molly pushed him aside after returning his look with a glare and tried to reach her bedroom, only a few strides from where they were stood, locked in some sort of stand off. “Stupid, ridiculously, completely-- ” She muttered before feeling his large hand and long fingers wrap around the top of her arm firmly, tugging her back towards him.

  
“Molly…” He said in the most, soft and tender of ways. Her heart melted.

  
“What?” She whispered.

  
“I want—Look at me.” Sherlock demanded, a sudden ferocity in his voice as he spun her round. “I want you to look at me when I say this.”  
Molly only stared up with her brown doe eyes boring into his ever changing, currently stormy almost grey eyes.

  
“Yes?”

  
“I do, in fact, still need you.”

  
“For what?”

  
“For nothing. I just need you.”

  
"Why?"

  
Sherlock's expression softened further, his hold on her arm becoming tender.  
"Molly.... Please."

  
She stared at him, not knowing what was brewing behind his eyes and shook her head, gently trying to pull herself from him.  
"Sherlock, I don't get it." Molly murmured just as he adjusted his hold, gripping both of her hands.  
Her heart was pounding, the sound filling her ears and distracting the rest of her senses.

  
"I think you do. Your body certainly does." Sherlock whispered, leaning in closer and spreading the goose bumps further down her arms. Her mind had seemingly stopped working when his hands dropped hers in favour of holding her hips. Dragging her closer, he brought Molly's arms to rest around his shoulders.

"I don't think that we--"

  
"Molly, trust me just this once."

"I always--"

  
Her mouth was covered with his before she could say anymore. One of his hands now rested on the small of her back while the other was on the nape of her neck, keeping her from going anywhere. She was hesitant at first, mouth stiff against his warm and soft lips which coaxed hers into action soon enough. Molly had sunk into his arms at last and struggled to try and pull her mouth from his when her lungs began to burn.

  
"Sherlock?" She gasped, laying her hands on his chest while collecting herself, taking deep breaths and keeping her eyes focused on the middle of his chest.

  
"Molly..." Sherlock whispered into her ear. His heartbeat thumped loudly against her chest with the way he kept himself pressed to her, chin on her shoulder.

Her ears and cheeks burned with blush as she gave in and hugged him tightly to her. "This...we...I don't know what to say."

  
"Get back to using your mouth in a different manner then." Sherlock pulled back and smirked.

  
Molly looked up at him with a hesitancy in her eyes. "I thought you didn't want this. You made is paradoxically clear by both taking me on a date and telling me you couldn't do a relationship."

  
Sherlock's expression fell and his mouth twitched again.  
"I wasn't lying. I can't do relationships, however, it doesn't mean I haven't come around to wanting it. Unfortunately, I do have a heart and I do have emotional needs apparently, most of which revolve around you."

Molly had no idea what to say at all, but she knew she needed to validate what he had said. She slipped her arms around him and gave him a tender squeeze, face pressed to his chest again. "I'm sorry and I--You know we can't really...Not right now at least..."

  
"And why not? I think I've spent long enough--"

  
"Well, for one there is poor Janine."

  
"She is hardly one to have sympathy for, Molly. You didn't seem all that fond of her at the wedding."

  
Embarrassed, blush filled her cheeks. "What are you implying?"

  
"You were quite jealous."

  
"And so were you." Molly countered, smiling smugly.

  
"Besides the point. Why can't we pursue this now that I've figured out what a complete--"

  
"Bastard you were being?"

  
His eyes seemed to harden as there was a sense of anger behind them.  
"What a complete and utter bastard I've been to you. Yes."

  
Her expression softened and she stretched on her toes to peck his lips.  
"The case. Finish the case. Then we will talk." Sherlock was certainly miffed and in an almost childish way, he grabbed her and pulled her tight to his chest as if he would never let go.

  
"I don't want to wait anymore, Molly. I can't."

  
"You have no clue what waiting is like. Try a near decade and maybe I'll listen."

  
"Molly..." He whined softly, saying her name for the millionth time that night.

As much as it killed her to do it, Molly pulled away slowly (reluctantly). "Finish and then talk to me about it again." She pressed, crossing her arms over her chest.

  
"You'll keep the dress?" He asked, something extremely vulnerable in his expression.

  
"I will. Promise."

  
"I will be back." Sherlock told her determinedly, wanting so badly to pull her back and persuade her otherwise, but something told him it wouldnt be fair and something else told him she wouldnt budge. He'd have to do this the right way.  
"Two weeks. Dinner. Baker Street."

  
"You're making plans ahead of time?" She asked with a smirk.

  
"I did tell you I wasn't going to wait any longer than required. Two weeks maximum. This one's more complicated than usual."

  
"Two weeks from right now. I'll be there."

She watched as Sherlock made his way towards the door and stepped out. He paused suddenly and peeked at her from behind it. "I'm counting on you, Molly Hooper." Molly would swear she saw one of the best smiles she'd ever seen on his face before the door closed.

Two weeks.

Much would happen in the next few days, let alone two weeks. Somehow, dinner had become a far fetched idea, along with the thought of the two of them being together at all since he'd supposedly killed a man on Christmas and all unbeknownst to her except after he was already set in a plane for some ungodly place, that he would pay with his own life.

Christmas and New Years had passed without a word from him which had worried her immensely. The only way she had found anything out was by asking Mrs. Hudson and then by pestering Mary and John. Apparently, no one else had found it important that she know the fate of her...her friend. A very important friend. It'd shattered her to think that they had brought him to her when he had relapsed, but he was going to lose his life in another way and they hadn't thought to tell her?  
Molly was simmering over this she puttered around the lab, scowl nearly permanent on her face. She walked towards her office and gasped as the screen on her sleeping computer lit up with the face from her nightmares, except this time it was real and there wasn't Sherlock to help. Gripping the counter, her mind whirled with what to do. Maybe it didn't matter...Sherlock was gone...Probably forever....There wasn't anyone who could really help now.

There was no one to see the shadow that crept up behind her and no one to hear her scream.

 


End file.
